


Celebrations

by Alarnia



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alcohol, Armageddon, College, Dubious Consent, Hell, M/M, Other, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, amorphous sex blobs, weird demon stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:46:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4868909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alarnia/pseuds/Alarnia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanford failed, the contract is complete, and the waking world is gone.</p>
<p> <br/>I stayed up till 2am just to write weird angsty billford smut. What has my life become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celebrations

**Author's Note:**

> sooo there was no beta and I am too tired to spelling check. whatever.

Ford squirmed, blinking into the darkness. Like the air he breathed he felt heavy, tired. But he could not remember how he had come to be this way, in this place. His eyes adjust, and he sees stone that glitters from some distant torchlight.

Or, perhaps these are stars, and he has never been awake at all, and yet he has never known his dreams to be somewhere he can feel weight, or the tender press of his knees on stone. No, this has to be real. Stanford pauses, and struggles to remember.

Gravity Falls, the portal, his family, the rift... Oh, oh what a fool he was. He should know better, better than anyone. trust no one, trust NO. ONE.

A familiar Cackle breaks through his thoughts, so abrupt in the silence like the shattering of glass.

"Bill!" Standford whirls, searching the darkness for that familiar shape, his former idol.

But he sees nothing... and then, everything. The rush of light stabs at his eyes before they can adjust, bright behind the thin red curtain of his eyelids, and then he sees, really sees the enormity of what he's brought onto the world.

It's too much for him to look, but heat strike's his face. Smoke and the stench of burning pine needles and flesh burn into his nostrils, even from his lofty position. Hell on earth.  
"Like what I've done with the place? I did it especially for you, you know." Standford can feel the weight of a hundred eyes, carved into rocks, into trees, into his own skin. Standford screams.

He's here, here to stay, nothing left to stop him or hold him back, in this armaggedon.

"Now now, heh, let's not go screaming our head's off, I've already got plenty of those!" bill appears on a whim, looking the same as ever, unimposing and comical though still unsettling. But theres something more, now that the veil between realms has been torn asunder. For the first time Ford can really feel the horror behind this creature, his age, his potency, and his own insignificance in comparison.

This creature called Bill is still hiding things from him, and suddenly he hopes that this time they will remain that way... but all the cards are on the table, and the game is over. Bill has won, owes him nothing, and knows no mercy. Ford is and always has been a plaything for this abomination. Surely this was his first, and largest mistake from the very beginning, for never fully grasping his own naivete. Ford feels the weight of defeat and blame, his albatross.

Bill laughs again, and eventually Ford's screams are reduced to gasping coughs. He feels a warm touch on his shoulder, and tries to shrink away. The triangle clucks.

"Come on IQ, it's not so bad, hey, you could be dead! Or y'know, with the guys!" screams echo in the distance as if to accentuate his point. It's... not Stanley or the kids, thank god. But as soon as the thought crosses his mind Ford feels sick with guilt. What does it matter who? He's to blame for all of this, for making a deal. For being unable to stop it from coming to fruition.

"Jeez you're touchy. learn to lighten up a bit! You'll get used to it."

" I won't- I'm not a monster like you." He turns, glaring into Bill's one dead eye.

"Not now, but thing's change Stanford. You see that now as well as I do."

"I can fix this. I can change it back!" This only makes the demon laugh harder. it's yellow body vanishing and reappearing, duplicating until there are hundreds of him.

"That's cute, smart guy, but theres no denying the past, just like theres no denying the future. So you might as well enjoy the party, cause it's here to stay! In fact, you're missing all the fun right now!"

Before he can protest the ground shifts beneath Ford, earth sliding and cracking. The heat of the flames slips away as he falls, down, down... deeper and deeper until he can't remember anymore.

* * *

He jolts upright, heaving, his heart beating against his chest. But he feels remarkably lively, like he hasn't felt since...

Oh.

College.

A frat party.

Its a miracle he was even invited. But he shouldn't be here, he doesn't know what he was thinking. Did he really expect it to be any different from before? and now... now he's just alone by the punch bowl, twinless and dressed too warmly. The old fraternity building is cramped, and humid from the heat of too many bodies, lolling about in a booze and drug induced haze.

Stanford tries to gather his courage though, he's sees a girl from trigonometry approach the snack bar. His pulse quickens as he watches her long hair bounce and catch in the evening light.

"H-Hey there, Rebecca, right? Enjoying the party?" He can't quite help the way he stammers, or the flush of his cheeks when he sees the way her jean's hug her thighs and hips.  
"Uhm... yeah sure." she snorts.

It's a clear dismissal, as soon as she's left the table a handful of other girls gather around her protectively, giggling and glancing your way. Well, at least she didn't throw her punch on you.

The world lurches for a moment, like it's been shook up, but when Ford blinks he's back where he left off.

"Pft, all the girls at this school are so stuck up, aren't they?" Ford looks to find another young man looming over him, tall in a way, but only at a glance. He's skinny though, angular, dark-haired and plain besides the roman arch of his nose. Standford doesn't remember his name, and after a second the man offers up a wry smile.

"Giles, remember? We had the same Chemistry lab last term." Stan's memory clicks, and he makes an appropriately apologetic face.

"Right! Sorry... so, you got invited too?" Stanford awkwardly drinks his punch.

"Hah, no. Just gate crashing, but now that I'm here I kinda wish I weren't. This place is just full of muscleheads and teases. But I'm sure a smart lookin guy like yourself's already noticed." Giles moves closer, moving shoulder to shoulder and perching his butt on the snack bar behind you both. But he's close, rubbing elbows with you in a literal sense. But he's not... threatening, and after the time Standford's had here he's pretty grateful just to have someone to talk to.

Opening up to him turns out to be pretty easy. Gile's shows interest in even the dorkiest subjects. They chat about classes and majors, ideas and aspirations. Then Ford's a few cups into some pretty obviously spiked punch when Giles mentions a little get together some of his buddies are having. Nature, frisbees and skinny dipping. It honestly sounds so much better than the place he's at now, Stan would go even if he weren't so keen on continueing his conversation with his newest friend.

It's dark when they arrive, Stanford didn't expect the walk over to take so long, but the sky is clear and the moon and stars light the way. When they arrive they find a small crowd lounging and dancing around a bonfire. Someone is playing a half-decent melody on their guitar. It's the first time Ford's ever seen something like this, but he's drunk enough to ignore any slight discomfort, and before he can blink Giles is dragging him forward and he's being passed around for introductions. Stanford finds himself a few minutes later laying in a patch of daisies having his face touched by a pretty girl he's never seen before, like it's something amazing. Someone's passing around a pipe, and after that the night become a blur of colors and sound. He tumbles. a girl named Sam is letting him kiss her and touch her breasts, and Giles is at his back doing- oh. Well suddenly this whole situation is starting to make a whole lot more sense, but Ford's too far gone to care, and-

The world melts. He still feels the same, lethargy still clouding his senses. He can still feel Sam, Giles, the sweet smell of wild flowers and dew. He can still feel his intoxication, but what he sees is... different. It's dark, with no stars or campfire to help him see. He can't see his friends, he sees... He has to struggle to find sobriety, but when he does he knows that they are not here anymore, only a memory, and the trap he has fallen into has only served to keep him locked in it.

The shape below him that looks like Sam and yet is not smiles, and shifts against him. Slick, nude. Ford's hands tighten around her form, eliciting a gasp that pulls at Ford's gut. The mass behind him that he believed was Gile's pushes him down. A limb finds it's way between his thighs, spreading them, and Standford can not remember loosing his clothes.

He shudders, blinks, gasps at the feeling of a tongue on his neck. His vision clears, and he sees. Around him walls seeth with intent, masses of it writhing up against him in this pit Bill pushed him into. It feels wet, and the smell of musk is thick and cloying.

He curses and struggles free, only to slip and fall. His face presses into one fleshy black wall, and he coughs as some liquid seeps from it. Despite his horror he can still feel desire burning between his legs, and he curses aloud.

It's inescapable. Everything he grasps at falls away, looses traction, doesn't take his weight, and as he struggles he can hear the pit awakening like it is it's own thinking being, groaning and sighing. Ford slips one more time, and next finds that he is unable to get up. The memory takes hold again, but differently.

Giles presses him against a wall, tangling his fingers in Ford's hair, before dropping to his knees. It feels slick and wet and alien, but looks... god how it looks. A pink tong slips out, trails over His tip and along the shaft, teasing. Ford reaches for him and grasps at nothing. The illusion is gone again, revealing a small yellow demon, watching Stanford with interest. But he says nothing and vanishes even as eyes open and watch him from every other angle.

"Bill... you-" Stanford chokes out as hands grasp at him, push him to his knees and hold him still. But Giles is there again, but dark, as if he'd been dipped in ink, and his bangs hang in front of his face, hiding his eyes save for the occassional glimpse. The creature speaks, though it's in the voice of an enemy.

"Hey there, Smart guy, enjoying the party?" The voice comes out husky, and the shape creeps forward approaching from front and from behind. Ford startle's.

"Wait- I-" Ford is silenced by a black finger pressed to his lips. He feels Gile's double pressing against him, warm and somehow soothing, hands glide up his sides, tingling and making him want to squirm away, if not for the other form at his front.

"Just relax, love, don't you want this? Don't you want me?" Gile's purrs, reality and fantasy blending again. A mouth is pressed to Ford's neck. two mouths. Hands. Hips. Friction, and Standford is consumed, a hundred eyes watching hungrily as Ford's control slips.

"Gile's I've- I've never..." Hands slip over Ford's hips, groping the flesh there.

"Shh, you'll be fine, I'll take good care of you." Hot flesh presses against his sack as he's lifted, pulled into Gile's lap, it's other body shifts with them, pressing Ford forward, lifting his hips. He feels it's mouth leaving a trail of kisses down his back until he feels it on his pucker, opening him up, and Ford whimpers into Gile's throat. He laughs, high and crazy.

"You're amazing, IQ,"

"Ahhhd-don't call me th-thhhat." This sets off another peel of laughter, but Ford can't be brought to care overly much. Gile's has reached down to stroke his shaft.  
"No really, you've always been my favorite human."

Ford breaks. His body aches, and something in his whines makes this clear to Bill, because not a moment later Stanford can feel Gile's double pressing down on him. His cock, hot and rigid, presses against him. Stanford bites down on a moan, any discomfort quickly fades under the force of pleasure as his lover begins thrusting into him, milking his prostate with his dick.

Ford gropes at the body holding him, and it's all not enough, until it's too much, and Ford comes hard in Gile's lap.

He opens his eyes to look into one big one, bright in the darkness, crinkled with humor. Ford sags, tired and used up, sore between his legs. He feels sleep begin to claim him once again, and as he does, he hears Bill's distant murmur...

"and the party's just getting started IQ."


End file.
